


Little Talks

by helldyke420



Series: Champion [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of past abuse, character death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helldyke420/pseuds/helldyke420
Summary: Karkat finds out Gamzee's abusive father has died.Title is Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men
Relationships: Karkat Vantas/Gamzee Makara
Series: Champion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1373986
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Little Talks

Karkat can hear the music from outside the apartment complex, and he sighs. He’d left Gamzee that morning passed out on the couch, and despite it being eight hours later, he expected him to be in the same position.

He opens the front door to the complex, thanking whatever god there might be that their neighbours never seemed to really care about what bullshit Gamzee did all day on his days off. Unfortunately this meant Karkat had to deal with their idiocy at all hours, which concentrated around two in the morning. Whatever, Karkat didn’t need sleep anyway, he guessed. Construction was bitch work, anyone could do it half awake.

His legs screamed at him as he climbed the stairs, and he rests against the doorframe as he unlocks the door. He pushes it open, and the sound of Belinda Carlisle and Gamzee singing Heaven is a Place on Earth becomes clearer. Karkat’s heart softens a little, listening to him.  
“Gamzee! I’m home!” He calls, unlacing his boots and putting them up against the wall next to Gamzee’s shoes. He’d learned better real fucking fast to avoid surprising Gamzee. He tried his hardest to announce his presence in subtle ways, though he was generally … “naturally loud”.  
“Hey best friend! Got us some dinner up in here!” He calls back, and the music is turned way down. Karkat makes his way down the short hall, turning into the kitchen.

Gamzee’s at the stove, sure enough, and whatever he’s making smells really good. Karkat hesitates, but makes his way over, leaning against Gamzee’s side. He isn’t … startled exactly, and he can see his shoulders tense briefly.  
“What’s for dinner?”  
“Chicken and mushrooms, broccoli, rice.” Karkat hums softly. It smells really good, as does anything Gamzee cooks.  
“What’s the occasion?” He asks, sarcastically. He’d been planning on another night of cheap ramen, and was hesitant to find out when their food budget suddenly expanded.  
“My dad died.” He says, cheerfully enough. Karkat freezes for a second.  
“What?” He asks. He feels very eloquent.  
“Yep.” He pops the last syllable. “Found him dead last night.” Karkat lets out a bewildered laugh, if only because he wasn’t sure how to take the news.  
“And you’re … fine with it? I mean. I know he was a bastard. I know. But I mean.” He trails off. Gamzee cuts the heat down to low on the chicken, pouring a little more hot sauce into the pan and stirring it. He’s quiet, which is unusual for him.  
“I got some kinds of emotions on it, man. But there’s nothing to be done. So I made some chicken, and I’m gonna just be happy that he ain’t somethin’ to think ‘bout no more.”  
“That’s not how emotions work.”  
“Maybe they are if you learn to go with what life throws at you.” Karkat wraps an arm around him, pulling him into a hug. He makes a surprised noise, going still for a moment before hugging him back.  
“What’s going through that head of yours?” Karkat asks. Gamzee is quiet again. After a very long moment, he sighs.  
“I always wanted to … make him hurt like he hurt me.” He says, and his voice cracks a little, the way it does when you’re trying not to cry but you’re losing the battle. “It’s not healthy. But I wanted to hurt him so fuckin’ bad. But now he’s gone, and I’m still hurting real bad myself.” Karkat hums softly. “I think Kurloz is more torn up about it than me though. Motherfucker’s got a lot of complicated emotions about it.”  
“This isn’t about Kurloz.” Karkat says softly. “Stop deflecting.”  
“I’m just-”  
“Doing what you always do? Trying to redirect sympathy to someone you think needs it more?” Gamzee makes a soft, irritated noise. “Your brother isn’t here. Just jam it out with me.”  
“...Ain’t much to say.” Gamzee says, and Karkat can tell he’s crying now. He holds him tighter. “He died from a heart attack, y’know?” He asks.  
“Okay..?”  
“He died all alone and scared.” Gamzee clarifies. Kind of.  
“How’s that making you feel?”  
“Jealous I ain’t been there to see it.” His voice is hard, the way it gets just before Gamzee has an outburst, and Karkat pulls away for a moment. Gamzee has tears on his face, but his mouth is set in a miserable, hard line.  
“What do you think that would of done for you?” He asks gently.  
“Given me some closure, maybe? Something to tie all that shit up and put it away?”  
“Gamzee. You know that no matter how this ended, you were never gonna get better just like that.” Gamzee’s face falls a little.  
“Wanted it to though.” Karkat’s attention is pulled back to the stove as the timer goes off. Gamzee pulls himself away from the conversation to check the rice, turning the heat off when he deems it done with that. He scrubs the small amount of tears that had fallen away, clicking off the heat off for the chicken too. “Almost done.” He tells Karkat, flashing him a quick smile.  
“It smells really fucking good.” Karkat says. Gamzee’s smile gets big and he straightens a little. He’s always been real susceptive to compliments like that. “You always do a great job cooking, Gam.”  
“Thanks best friend.” He says softly.  
“I still wanna talk about what happened, though.” Gamzee’s smile gets a little sad.  
“Later. Can we do it later?”  
“Whenever you’re ready.” Karkat tells him. “You know I’ll always be here to listen.”

The bass thrumming through the thin wall is enough to make anyone resort to murder, but Karkat is actively trying to be a decent member of society. He takes a deep breath, folding his pillow up around his ears and staring determinedly at the ceiling. What kind of fucking sociopath listened to Eminem anymore anyway? And at fucking three in the morning? His insomnia had gotten better with time and medication, but moving in here caused him to revert back to his old sleeping habits - i.e., not at all.

The pillow is not even close to enough to muffle anything, so he doesn’t miss the soft knock on his door. He drops the pillow, blinking in confusion, and gets up. The wooden floors creak under his weight as he opens the door, and comes face to chest with Gamzee. Obviously. Who else would be in the apartment at three a.m.?

When Karkat meets his eyes, he realizes Gamzee is crying.  
“Hey Gam.” He says softly.  
“Hey brother.” He sniffles, wiping his eyes. “Can a motherfucker steal a hug?” Karkat’s heart melts a little, and he opens his arms, pulling him in.  
“Obviously. Of course.” He murmurs. Gamzee buries his face in Karkat’s hair, shaking a little as he cries. “It’s okay, Gamzee. You’re okay.”  
“I know. Shit. I know, man.” His voice is tight with emotion. “Needed to be held for a moment, ‘m sorry I woke you.”  
“I wasn’t sleeping anyway. How could I possibly when our neighbours are oh so helpfully serenading us with the soothing sounds of Mister Marshall Mathers the third?” Gamzee snorts out a laugh.  
“True. True.” He pulls away a little, though he seems reluctant to.  
“Hey. Are you okay?” Karkat asks, and he sees him press his lips together tightly in the faint light.  
“Not really.” He says after a second.  
“Lay down with me.” Karkat takes his hand, and Gamzee hesitates. “You’re not bothering me.”  
“I know you got work tomorrow…”  
“Dude, come on. Get your ass in here.” Gamzee lets himself be led in, and Karkat shuts the door firmly behind the both of them.

When he turns, Gamzee’s sitting on the edge of his bed, looking miserable.  
“Move over.” Karkat says, climbing into bed when he obliges. “Get the fuck over here.” He tells him, pulling him down onto the pillow next to him. There’s an awkward moment where they get situated, and Gamzee wraps his stupidly long arms around him, pulling him in like a life size teddy bear.  
“I gotta lotta twisted up feelings, man.” He mumbles.  
“I’m sure you do.” Gamzee sighs a little, breath shaky.  
“I don’ even know where to start…” They’re both quiet for a moment. The music from the other apartment cuts.  
“Oh thank god.” Karkat mumbles. Moments later they hear their neighbour’s door slam shut.  
“One problem gone, leastaways.” Gamzee says. Karkat laughs a little.  
“True enough.” Gamzee remains silent for a while. “Talk to me, Gam.”  
“My dad was fucked up.” He says. Karkat can’t help but snort a laugh.  
“Yeah.” Gamzee makes a soft noise. “Sorry. That was just the understatement of the year.”  
“S’pose it is, sure ‘nough.” Gamzee pauses. “He just … he was confusing, though. If he just straight-up hated me, I think it’d be easier. But he’d beat the shit out of me for almost nothin’, ‘n then turn ‘round and tell me we needed to stick together, ‘cause we ain’t got nobody else.” He pauses again. “When me and Kurloz left, he put out a missing persons report. I don’t know what Kurloz did, but it went away. He couldn’t go after ‘Loz, an’ … I dunno. I was with him.”  
“Did he ever talk to you guys again?” Karkat asks. Gamzee sighs softly.  
“I know he got Kurloz’s number. After a hot minute.” Karkat hums. “I don’t think Kurloz responded, ever. I’d see his phone start buzzing, and it’d go off like crazy for an hour before he got the new number blocked. Then dad’d go ‘n do it all over again. Get a new number or some shit, I guess. Kurloz hated talkin’ about it.”  
“That’s shitty.”  
“I think he did love us some type’a way. Didn’t really matter though.” Gamzee hugs him tighter. “You don’t do that shit to people you care about.”  
“Did you ever try to talk to him?”  
“No. I didn’t want to.” His voice sounds tight. “I wanted to hurt him so bad. Scares me.”  
“It’s not a surprise you feel that way.” Karkat says. “You have your … upswings, I guess.”  
“Even on the meds I still get red hot over it. He didn’t have the right to … to treat me how he did.”  
“No, he didn’t.” Karkat reassures him. “And it’s fine to be angry about it. But he’s gone now, and you can let go of it.”  
“I can’t.” Gamzee sounds like he’s crying again. “I can’t, I’m never going to forgive him. Ever. He never showed me any type’a mercy. I was just a kid, man.”  
“No, I don’t expect you to forgive him.” Karkat tries to collect his words, find the right thing to say. “You just have to move past it, y’know? He hurt you, and he was never sorry. You don’t owe him, or his memory, anything.”  
“Yeah. Yeah…” Gamzee pauses. “Can I stay in here tonight?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Cool.” Gamzee relaxes, just a little. “You’re too nice to me, ‘Kat.”  
“‘Cuz I love you, you asshole.” Gamzee lets out a choked up laugh.  
“Ain’t that somethin’.” He says, burying his face further into the crook of Karkat’s neck. His breath is warm, uncomfortable in the Californian summer heat, but Karkat doesn’t mind. Not now. Not when he needs this. “You know what?”  
“What?”  
“I love you too.” Karkat laughs, too.  
“Christ, I should hope so.” He can feel Gamzee’s little smile against his skin, and it feels like a secret.  
“You’re the best friend someone could ask for, man.” The two lay in comfortable silence, and Gamzee buries his face in Karkat’s hair, and nuzzles him a little.  
“You gonna fall asleep now?” He asks.  
“Mm. Mmhm.” He responds, muffled. Karkat just smiles to himself. He shifts slightly, careful not to disturb his friend, and closes his eyes.

He could only hope that it was a good sign that Gamzee’s dad had passed away. Of course he wasn’t going to get better right away. But maybe it was a step in the right direction. And Karkat would be with him the whole way.


End file.
